


Go Back to Sleep

by friedhotsauce



Series: The Silver Dreams of Brandon Stark [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:08:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1496068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friedhotsauce/pseuds/friedhotsauce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Its dark and silent, and Bran is nowhere to be found.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Go Back to Sleep

Little lord, little lord  
Oh where have you gone little lord?  
Summer, how he howls at the moon  
Begging her for a path that leads to you  
The others, well, I will let them be  
Though I find it strange  
Even your brother hasn't stirred in the slightest  
No matter what, he always climbs back down  
The truest saying that made you smile  
Gods be good

After another invisible battle that took the course  
Of a whole night  
Perhaps the littlest lord knows all  
More than I ever could anyway

Kidnapped?  
I'd rather that, than anything else  
And with your dead legs  
How could it not be?

A wildling's eyes are the keenest of all  
Even during the black hours  
But terror strikes me   
In a way I've never been cursed enough to know  
There are no footprints  
In the grass or soil or sand  
Little lord, little lord  
Oh where have you gone little lord?

A single wind  
A lonely wind  
A ghost wind  
Spins my heels towards the forest  
A sign  
Gliding over pebbles  
To the center of the world  
I'm almost there little lord

There is a caw in the dark green  
That multiplies five times each second  
I've interrupted something  
A gathering  
A feast  
You on a plate of woven vines  
Splayed wide and tall  
Like a tapestry in the halls of your home  
No little lord, your history does not end here

My wood-pricked hands are all I have  
Nature's morningstar  
I'll pick the bones straight from their   
Three-eyed bodies  
And make a fancy medal for you  
Tell them all you did it  
Because you did

You opened your snowy eyes  
And doves came storming in  
They shot into the hearts of the crows  
And surfaced at the back  
Red with hell  
But raised you above the ground  
With paradise in their eyes  
And next thing you know  
You were in my arms again  
Like a boat   
We soldiers sailed back to the war camp  
And took refuge under rags that shield us  
From the rising sun  
Those at bay, shift from their slumber  
I wonder if there are any ravens leftover

"Where are you going?"

"No where little lord.  
I'm right here.  
Go back to sleep."


End file.
